


You Drink, I Bleed

by NobleD93



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cutting, F/M, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Past Rape/Non-con, Recovery, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 11:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10876134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NobleD93/pseuds/NobleD93
Summary: Cullen is struggling with his lyrium withdrawal and the Inquisitor confronts him about it. The story takes a turn when Max confesses to him of his own struggling addiction. Warning: implied rape





	You Drink, I Bleed

.

.

.

 

Max was a little unsure of how to approach this. He can somewhat understand what his Commander was going through, though without all the worst side effects.

He had just witnessed the Commander talking to the Seeker about something and disagreement was there. When Cullen left, Cassandra told the Herald that only he could tell him and explain to him, make him see. He knew what Cassandra meant by that.

He walked up the stairs up by the tavern and up to the barracks. He could see construction was near finish, and also the upgrades to better treatment for the sick and wounded. He was glad for that. Though it all looked good, some of the rooms were still dilapidated but Josephine was working her way with that to add more housing for the nobility to stay in when they visit.

Patrolling guards saluted until the Inquisitor passed them by, nodding his head to acknowledge them.

He got to Cullen's office and as soon as he walked in, something flew right in front of him, smashing on the door way, breaking to bits. 

"Maker's breath! I didn't hear you enter! I--!"

Max looked to see a panicked Cullen before glancing down to see what it was he threw, and he saw the Lady Andraste on the floor. He knew what the instrument was.

"If you were aiming for me, you sadly miss," Max said, trying to pass this as all a joke and no harm done.

"That's not what I---sigh…" Cullen stopped, somewhat realizing it was only a joke but he still felt remorseful about it, yet glad it didn't really hit the Inquisitor. Then he collapsed a bit, but caught himself by the desk. Concerned, Max went to his side as he realized the former templar was going through some of the withdrawal effects.

"I never meant for _this_ to interfere."

Max frowned at that. "We have our moments, Cullen, but honestly, I'm proud you're still holding on."

The commander let out a short laugh. "Just barely… You asked what happened to Ferelden's Circle?"

He didn't like where this was going but he opted to just listen to him. He had never seen the man so shaken and so… vulnerable before.

With fury in his eyes, he told the tale, "The circle was taken over by abominations. The templars _\--My friends_ were **slaughtered**." And Max could still see the grief and the nightmarish past still haunting the former templar as he moved to the window, recoiling.

"I…I was tortured," he confessed. "they tried to break my mind, and I---haha… how can you be the same person after _that?_ …Still, I wanted to serve… They sent me to _Kirkwall_. I trusted my Knight Commander and for what? A fear of mages ended in _madness_ …"

Max knew the story, or at least heard of it. Both the Templar and the Magi were both quarreling and fighting, and the Champion was there. Both leaders of the group were…hysterically mad. The worst part about all this is that Cullen probably blamed himself for it.

The Commander shook his head at the memories still fresh in his mind. "Kirkwall Circle fell. Innocent people died on the streets. Can't you see I want nothing to with that life?"

"Cullen… Of course I--" He tried to comfort his commander--his friend, but he wanted none of it.

"No! You should be questioning what I've done!" He said as he started to pace. "It would be better if I could gain some control of my life. These thoughts won't leave _me!_ "

And ohh… ohhhh can Max relate to how that felt. Helpless. Worthless. Useless. 

"How many lives depend on our success? I _swore_ myself to this cause! I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did to the chantry!" 

Max had to cut in from there now. "Do you actually believe that?" 

"It shows does it not? I should be taking _it!_ " He watched the Commander punching the bookshelf and a couple of books fell from the effect. 

Max turned away from him. "…Can I show you something, Cullen?" 

Cullen let out a heavy sigh and he turned to the Inquisitor, watching him take off the gauntlet on both of his left and right. He waited patiently as Max set the gauntlets and even his gloves down on his desk. Then the Inquisitor rolled up his sleeves, and Cullen was left speechless.

Cuts. Multiples cuts. Most of them faded like scars, but there was one in particular that looked recent. 

"What…? Who… who did this?" Cullen asked, but he knew who, he just couldn't… It was hard to wrap his mind around that answer. 

"Who else, Cullen…?" Max asked him, feeling quite vulnerable and judged for these scars to him, but he had to. He then pointed to the long scar on his left wrist. "You see this one, Cullen? This one was a couple of weeks ago…" 

"But _why…_?" It didn’t make sense to the Commander. 

“Because I was weak, Cullen, I couldn’t--” Max stopped as he rolled his sleeves down. “Haha…. This is… harder than I thought… to explain this.” 

Cullen waited patiently for him this time, giving him his attention just like he did. Max was thankful for the silence as it gave him more time to think of a response. 

When he was finally ready, he started. “I’ve been… inflicting myself since I was brought into the chantry by my mother… For being a place of holy, it was supposed to be… safe. It was supposed to offer comfort, words of the Maker—not _grubby_ hands of a fucking clergy that enjoyed to grab _little_ boys.” 

Blood ran cold under Cullen’s skin, knowing what he meant. “…Was that man severely punished?” 

Max scoffed as if the punishment wasn’t enough to make up for the crime. “Yes… when someone finally spoke up, and it wasn’t me… no I was…” He paused a moment, collecting his thoughts, “my mind wasn’t in a good place at the time. I started to think irrational, hurtful thoughts against myself… that as a person I was weak… I started cutting myself because it made me forget the pain---emotional pain. It was…shamefully addicting. And it was all because of _him_. I wasn’t strong enough to stop him or tell anyone of the wrong doings he did, or even helped anyone he raped… and because I did nothing, I probably deserved it.” 

Cullen grabbed his arm. “Do you actually believe that?” 

It didn’t go unaware that that question was asked by Max to him, and it made him think differently a bit. Max, however, gave an answer with a small smile. “I don’t anymore…” 

The commander smiled a bit at that, but then what was the real reason for continuing the self-infliction? He asked, “…When did you stop or—how did you start?” 

“You mean when did I relapse? And as for the question, believe it or not, I actually stopped after the Conclave exploded… I guess I was too busy or too tired, but mostly it was because I felt like I was needed. And that I wasn’t so useless or worthless…” He trailed off a moment, taking another pause for a breather. For him, this was mentally straining because the wound was still fresh. “…I… I relapsed… after the siege of Adamant… After we went through the fade, and after we left Hawke… _I_ left Hawke to die…. I’m amazed Varric doesn’t hold grudge against me…” 

Cullen placed a hand on the Inquisitor’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

“Was it? …They had me to choose, Cullen. Both Alistair and Hawke, almost eager to die to save the others… They made _me_ choose!” Max snapped a bit, and he recoiled at the memory. “…I chose Hawke to stay…because I thought… I thought maybe—if it’s him---he could get out… And now he’s dead, and it’s because of me.” 

The commander took a step closer to his leader, trying to make eye contact. “Look at me, Inquisitor---Max. If you chose Alistair, it’ll be the same situation. You had no other choice!” 

Max shook his head. “I had a choice, Cullen! …Me. I could have found a way. I had the mark, I could make myself open a rift and back to our world--” 

“You don’t know that! What if you couldn’t escape that monstrous demon? You would be dead, and we would be _lost_ without you!” 

The Inquisitor didn’t respond to that then he shook his head not believing it. “No, no, no, we’re not talking about this---we’re talking about…! …Point is I couldn’t handle the guilt, Cullen! … I couldn’t… I _can’t_ stop blaming myself for it.” 

It was silent now between them, and on some level Cullen understood about the guilt and such. He honestly still blamed himself for Kirkwall. If there was something he could have done differently, and there was, he wished he could have. 

“…Who stopped you?” Cullen finally broke the silence. Someone or something must have stopped the Inquisitor from cutting. After all, he said the wound was two weeks ago. 

“…Cassandra. She caught me... and we had a little talk just like this one… And as you’ve said, she also said it wasn’t my fault.” Max explained to him, making it clear that it was going to be a while before he would start to see it as the truth. “But so far, she’s keeping me in line… It’s also why she sent me to talk to you, and to be honest with you, Cullen, I look up to you.” 

The Commander was taken back at that. “Me?” 

“Yes… I imagine lyrium withdrawal had stronger side effects then the…well urges, I get. You suffer for it, and yet you’re still holding your ground,” Max pointed out. “…If there’s a possibility…of someone that can be completely free of an addiction… it’d be you… and it would be entirely possible for me too.” 

“So, me… not taking the lyrium is good for you?” 

Max smiled a bit warmly. “Very good, actually… You have the chance to break the leash, Cullen… and if you turn away now--- if you _drink_ … I bleed. And that is a promise.” 

Cullen stared at him for a moment nodding his head. “Alright… We’ll get through this together, Inquisitor.” 

He held his hand up and Max grasped it tightly like brothers sharing a bond and holding a promise. 

“…Maker watch over us all.”

.

.

.


End file.
